


Tell Me Why

by nerd6to6the6max



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, post-BotFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 06:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerd6to6the6max/pseuds/nerd6to6the6max
Summary: A little fic I wrote years ago.Tauriel returns after her banishment to gather precious personal belongings and Thranduil confronts her. Confessions and fluff ensue.





	Tell Me Why

Thranduil’s army limped back to his kingdom, their numbers far fewer and their leader dejected. He regretted their losses, he regretted his actions, he regretted so many things. What he mourned most was the rift that had grown between him and his son, his foolish son who had fallen for the she-elf. Why did he resent his father for trying to prevent a shattered heart? Thranduil knew love would bring nothing but pain. Pain he remembered all too well after Legolas’s mother had passed. Pain that had been clear in the she-elf’s eyes as she held the broken body of the dwarf she loved, weeping as if her tears could restore his life. No, love would bring nothing but pain.

They reached the border of the Woodland Realm shortly before dusk. The king glanced at the sun moving steadily lower in the sky, and raised a hand.

“We shall spend the evening here. Make camp and arrange a night-watch.” Thranduil ordered, dismounting from his horse and handing the reins to a passing elf. He though briefly of his majestic elk, and of the shred of affection he had held for the animal. He never allowed another to touch his mount, and always tended to the beast himself, since none other could be trusted to care for it properly. He recalled the look on the poor creature’s face as it perished, afraid and in pain, surrounded by death. The king shook his head to clear his thoughts and strode away. This was but another example of sorrow caused by affection.

 

 

Tauriel watched the smoke from the campfires drift over the forest. She felt a small twinge of relief- with the king and army away, Mirkwood Palace would be all but unguarded. They wouldn’t return for at least another day. The ex-captain of the guards knew returning would mean certain death if she was caught, but her belongings were still in her chambers. Clothes and books she didn’t particularly care about, but her mother’s jewellery and letters were irreplaceable. Tauriel missed her mother very much, even though three summers had passed since she died. A cool breeze drifted over her as she remounted her horse and rode away. She would ride all night if necessary. 

When Tauriel arrived, she found it almost too easy to creep past the guards. They must have been new recruits, hurried through training since the experienced guards were away fighting. A cloak of deep green hiding her face, she made her way to her chambers. Everything was as she had left it, a thick layer of dust now coating her belongings. She hurriedly picked up a satchel and began throwing her most valuable and sentimental items into it. This took very little time since she was not one to collect clutter. Almost at the door, she paused to take one last look at the scenery out of her ornate carved window. This would be the last time her eyes would take in Mirkwood’s dark beauty, the last time she would see the Woodland Realm. Tauriel wiped her eyes. There would be no more time for sentimentality. As she wandered towards the door, contemplating where to go next, the worst possible thing happened. The door opened.

 

 

Thranduil found himself alone in his tent, a torch burning and official-looking papers spread around his desk (he always insisted on bringing a desk, no matter how far they travelled). As his eyes grew too weary to read the words, his thoughts began drifting. They drifted towards the thing he loved most- Legolas. Worry and sorrow crept in, making the king wonder if he should send a search party out for his beloved son. But he knew, deep down, that nothing could force Legolas to return if he didn’t wish it. Why, why, why did it have to be Tauriel? It had broken his heart to banish her, mostly because she was the best captain of the guards he had ever had, but also because he had grown fond of her. Legolas would take a long time to forgive him. Thranduil would take even longer to forgive himself. She was just too wilful to control, he told himself. A Wildcard. Unpredictable. That’s why he had banished her. Certainly not because of a childish moment of jealousy that she had gone to help that dwarf, and certainly not because Legolas had begun caring for her. Thranduil sighed and opened his tent flap.

“Wake me if there are any disturbances.” He commanded. The guards outside his tent snapped to attention, assuring him they would. As the king blew out his lamp, he closed his eyes and wished two things- that his son was safe, and Tauriel was not with him.

 

 

Tauriel was certainly not with the elf prince, she was frozen to the floor as the door swung open. A maid walked in, took one look at Tauriel, and began screaming the palace down. Her heart in her mouth, Tauriel sprinted out of the door, but it was too late. The maid’s screams had brought a group of guards running.

“Halt! Drop the bag.” One of the guards commanded, sword held out in front of him. Tauriel gladly complied, drawing her own sword. Immediately the guard drew an arrow, pointing it at her head. She reached for her own bow but then she remembered- Thranduil. He had cut it in two as if she, his own captain of the guard, was nothing but a peasant stepping out of line. Rage boiled as the guards advanced, chaining her hands behind her back. Arrogant, foolish king. What difference did it make who she helped? What gave him the right to decide who lived or died? Kicking a few of the guard’s shins to vent her anger, the fugitive was lead down to the dungeons.

 

 

Thundering hooves half-woke the king, who groaned and pulled his pillow over his face.

“My lord! An urgent messenger from the palace has requested to speak with you.” A guard said. Thranduil would have liked to imprison the fool for waking him at this hour, but he had specifically ordered disturbances to be reported immediately. Taking a deep breath, the king sat up.

“Do you know what time it is?” he said in a quiet, dangerous tone that made the guard stand up a little straighter.

“It’s almost dawn, sire.” The guard said nervously.

“Correct. And do you know how much sleep I have had in the past few days?”

“I..I would presume not much, sire.” The guard replied, shifting his feet uneasily.

“That is also correct. So GET OUT OF MY TENT.” Thranduil roared, throwing the nearest object he could reach at the impertinent guard. There was a muffled thud as the boot made contact with his face.

“Ouch! Forgive me sire, but I think you will want to hear this.” 

“This had better be worth my time.” Thranduil snarled as he hurled himself out of his tent, white undershirt billowing in the cool night breeze. The guard pointed him towards an elf sitting with the night watch. They stood to attention as the king approached, but he waved his hand, too tired to bother with formalities. “Tell me this world-changing news as fast as possible.” He barked at the messenger.

The young elf stayed standing and addressed the king in a reedy voice. “My lord, an intruder has been detained at the palace. She was robbing th-“

“IS THAT IT? AND INTRUDER WAS CAPTURED? IS THAT WHAT YOU DEEMED IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO RIDE THROUGH MIRKWOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT JUST TO WAKE YOUR KING?” Thranduil roared, rousing most of the camp. He was about to start throwing things again when the messenger spoke up.

“Sire, it…the prisoner, it’s…Tauriel.”

“Oh…I see.” The king was silent for a moment, his thoughts churning almost as fast as his stomach. Tauriel had returned? What purpose could she have in Mirkwood that was important enough to risk her life? “Return immediately to the palace. Give the order that she is to remain in the dungeon-unharmed- until I return tomorrow. I’ll deal with her myself.” The messenger nodded, riding away with haste. Thranduil walked slowly back towards his tent. Tauriel. In Mirkwood. How very, very interesting.

 

 

Tauriel had thrown many prisoners into the cramped cells beneath the palace, but she had never spent the night in one. Now she knew why the citizens of the Woodland Realm were so law-abiding; no one in their right minds would risk being thrown in one of these hellholes. Groaning as she woke from the most uncomfortable sleep she has ever had, Tauriel tried to stretch. The cell didn’t even allow her space to stretch her arms. Stiffness filled every muscle in her body as the torchlights of the guards drew closer. They threw some muck that was meant to pass for breakfast through the bars, which she promptly ignored. It seemed like hours had passed; what did they intend to do with her? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything good. Tauriel sat up straighter as she heard (Very faintly) a horn blowing; the king and his army had returned. Up to this point, she had not been even remotely scared. But the thought of facing Thranduil’s wrath…that was enough to make anyone a bit queasy.

 

 

Thranduil spent the morning making sure his men were taken care of properly, and counting his losses (more than he cared to think about). It felt strange to be back in his palace, with no constant threat to worry about. He could perhaps begin to search for Legolas but…no, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Send for the prisoner .I’ll be in the throne room.” He ordered a passing guard. Ah, to be on a throne again, inspiring terror and awe in the hearts of all who saw him…the smallest of smiles graced Thranduil’s lips as he walked through the large doors.

 

 

This was it. This was the last moment she would be alive. At least, that’s all Tauriel’s mind could think as she was lead to the throne room. Many, many times she has been in that room, delivering prisoners or giving reports. Never had she felt like throwing up at the thought of entering it. As the guard knocked, her stomach moved even further up her throat. It almost burst out when she heard that cold, calm voice say “enter”. She kept her eyes downcast as she was shoved in front of the throne. All she could see was a pair of polished riding boots on the ends of delicately crossed legs.

“Leave us.” The king commanded, waving the guards away.

“My lord, I am not sure that is a wise-“

“I said leave us.” His voice grew colder and calmer with each word. The guards bowed and exited the room hastily. There was silence for a long, long moment until Tauriel steeled her nerve.

“My lord, I am pleased that you have returned uninjured.” She said, her voice steady as she bowed.

“Tauriel…” it was almost a question. There was something sinister in the way he paused, as if waiting for her to break down. Well, he’d have a long wait.

“I am sorry for returning after my banishment. I had some personal business to take care of. I will leave immediately, if your majesty would allow it.” Tauriel surprised herself with her ability to look Thranduil in his stormy grey eyes as she spoke.

“You were well aware of the consequences of returning. What, pray tell, could possibly be more important than your own life?” The king’s voice was quiet, but the question wasn’t really a question, more like a demand for answers.

“I…I had some personal belongings to gather.” Tauriel’s voice weakened at the unspoken threat.

“I assume you are referring to these.” Thranduil said, producing her satchel from somewhere. He threw it at her feet. “Open it.” Again, it wasn’t a request, it was a demand. Tauriel knelt beside the satchel, carefully taking out the stack of letters and boxes of jewellery. A letter fluttered from her grasp, landing near the king’s feet. Tauriel let out an anguished moan as he crumpled the paper.

“My lord, please, that was a letter from my mother.”

“Well, your mother can write you another then, can’t she.” Thranduil snapped, tossing the paper aside.

“No, she cannot.” Tauriel replied in a small voice.

 

 

Thranduil suddenly remembered that the only leave Tauriel ever took was three years ago, to attend her mother’s funeral. She had returned in silence, and didn’t speak for nearly a week. Such pain, unbearable pain, and all for only loving someone.

“Forgive me. It slipped my mind.” The king said, his voice considerably less stony. Tauriel cast a surprised glance at him, evidently not used to anything but cold disinterest. “Tauriel…to return after banishment is on pain of death. You know that.”

“Yes, my lord. I am aware.” Tauriel said, returning her belongings to her bag. “I am not afraid to die.”

“Everyone is afraid to die.” Thranduil stated, as much to himself as to the kneeling elf. 

“My lord, may I be permitted to ask a question?” Tauriel said politely, rising to her feet.

“Speak freely.”

“Tell me why you exiled me. Was I truly banished for the crime of helping people?”

Thranduil considered his answer carefully. “I banished you because you repeatedly showed no respect for my orders.”

“Your orders were selfish and cowardly.” Tauriel replied without thinking.

“Who are you to say in what manner my orders are given?” Thranduil barked, rising from his throne. “You are nothing but a peasant with a scrap of talent. Never forget that.” He continued, looming over the shorter elf.

“And who are you, to decide who dies and who does not? Who are you to choose who receives my help?” Tauriel yelled back, not caring how rude she was being. If she was to die, she may as well go out with a bang.

“You practically let that dwarf escap-“

“He has a name, you arrogant sod.” Tauriel screamed, shoving him as hard as she could. As the king staggered backwards, he realized he had hit a raw nerve. It was barely seven days ago that Tauriel had held the dwarf’s body and begged him to take her love away.

 

 

The second her hands hit his chest, Tauriel knew she had crossed a line. Shouting at the king was one thing, assaulting him…well, she’d be dead within minutes. She closed her eyes, waiting for a blow that would never come. Risking a glance, she saw the king looking at her with what could only be described as pity. She braced herself as he raised his hand, but he only placed it on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “Kili. His name was Kili.” Tauriel could hardly believe it. Thranduil never showed any hint of regret at his actions, never apologized. But then, the king had been there when Kili…no, don’t think about that. Anything but that. Tauriel turned away, desperately wiping at her eyes. Her lip trembled at the effort of not screaming, and she bit it so hard it bled. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” The king repeated. The thing with kindness is, it makes you want to cry even more. Tauriel took a step away, a pathetic whimper escaping her mouth.

“If you’re going to kill me, then do it. Just kill me. Please.” She breathed, a familiar ache returning to her chest. Kili was gone. The thought hit her like a ton of bricks. She sank to the floor, waiting for the steel of a sword to pierce her neck.

 

 

Thranduil stood there, unsure of what to do. He had known her feelings for the Dwarf were strong, but he had no idea they were this strong. He knelt beside her, putting an arm over her heaving shoulders. “Tauriel. You don’t mean that.”

“Living with this pain is unbearable.” Tauriel said, choking as she held back her tears.

“I know better than most how unbearable it is. How it eats at you from the inside and erases your soul until you’re nothing. But I also know that love has a way of returning to us, in ways that cannot be foretold.” Thranduil said, bowing his head to look into her eyes. 

“I shall never love again.” Tauriel sniffed, wiping her eyes. “It brings nothing but pain and misery.”

“That is true, Tauriel, but it also brings great happiness. Joy like that cannot be gained any other way.” The king said, standing up. “Being around Legolas make me realize that what I have is enough.”

“Is Legolas the only one you love? I feel it’s my fault that you are at odds with him.” Tauriel said apologetically.

“No, he is not the only one.” The king smiled, offering his hand to help her up.

“Then who else?” Tauriel asked, sweeping her hair from her face. “Who in this entire kingdom could possibly stir your heart?” Thranduil said nothing; he just stared at her intently. Tauriel was confused for a few moments, then realized what the king was implying. “ME? My lord, no. I…I cannot…”

“I know you cannot. Not so soon after Kili. However, I have been denying my own feelings for far too long. There is no point lying.” Thranduil smiled sadly. “Why do you think I warned you away from Legolas? Why do you think I banished you? ”

“Tell me why, Thranduil. Tell me the truth.” Tauriel said weakly, taking a few steps back.

“I was childish. I was petty and selfish and jealous. Of Legolas, of Kili, of anyone who even looked at you. I couldn’t bear it when you refused to return to me.” The king said calmly, as if he had rehearsed this speech.

“My lord, you cannot expect me to…” Tauriel was lost for words, trying to express her shock without offending him. 

“Tauriel, I expect nothing from you. I know you could never love me. I accepted that long ago.” Thranduil said earnestly, his grey eyes for once not cold. “And I also accepted the fact that love will bring pain more often than it brings joy.”

“Thranduil…of course I could love you, one day. But this wound is too fresh. I don’t want another.” Tauriel inhaled. “And I’m scared that, if I do love you one day, it will end with this same feeling.”

“I know. I know. Believe me when I say, I am just as petrified as you. But are those moments of pure joy not worth any amount of suffering?” Thranduil sighed, closing the gap between them and pulling her into his arms “Melda Mahtar. If only love were easy as battle.” The king frowned. 

Tauriel leaned into him, feeling content for the first time in years. “Battle would be far less painful.” She murmured into his chest.

(Melda Mahtar translates to beloved warrior)


End file.
